Be careful what you ask for they say. I have wanted a cat of my own for years. I now own, No, let me rephrase. A cat now owns me. I wanted a literary cat to keep me company through a long night of writing. I had images of him laying on my lap as I write the Great American Novel. I am presently writing that novel, and Buddy takes his role seriously. In reality it proves difficult to see the screen over the fur. At five this morning he looked ready to jump ship literally. I live on a boat. He gets a bit grumpy when tired and has yet to learn of coffee. Thank you, Buddy, for hanging in there with me.
I stayed up all night writing on my novel. I have wanted to write a novel for sometime now but could never figure out how to proceed. It has come to me, and so far the novel flows from flying fingers at a scary pace. I feel somewhere between possessed and obsessed.This is a book about Ryan Rouse a high school student who loves to write and decides to try his hand at investigative writing to secure a summer job with the local paper. Ryan finds himself matching wits with a serial killer to save Sally, the head cheerleader and a girl with whom Ryan has secretly fallen in love.
Scenes..
Scene One....The capture of the serial killer's first victim....
Twelve inches of snow covered every surface and sucked the sound from the Denver metropolitan area. Few cars passed. In a ditch by a canal east of Denver in the suburb of Aurora a girl whimpered. Although in merciful coma, something visceral fought to stay alive even though her conscious mind rebelled at the horrors she had already endured. Blood seeped from her mouth and ears. As the snow slowed the temperature crashed. Snow covered her body. The blanket gave her just enough warmth to stay alive and slowed the flow of blood poolinginside her brain. The cold that saved her brain at the same time froze her extremities. If she survived this night, she would never walk again. She would lose all her toes and fingers.
A police car on standard patrol stopped to help yet another motorist who had overestimated the ability of his four wheel drive vehicle. Mad motorist one moved through twelve inches of drifting snow with reckless abandon. However, the four wheel drive did little to stop him when mad motorist two showing off his four wheel drive slid through the intersection at Alameda and Missippi. Mad motorist one managed to avoid a collision but ended up in a ditch close to the canal. Officer Stanley called a tow truck. They got the guy out okay. He slunk home to his wife with the fifty dollar tow truck bill firmly implanted in his left shirt pocket. The tow truck driver roared off to yet another ditch. Stanley stood beside the road alone.
He soaked in the peace of a new fallen snow. His thoughts turned toward home. Jeannie would have just finished a bedtime story with Allie. He hated leaving them at night even though he liked the action of the night shift. Then he heard it-- a mystical moan carried on a snowy wind. Slight, weak, almost musical he tried to sort reality from imagination in his police mind. Then all went quiet. He stood several minutes straining his ears against the driving snow. His hands stung. His nostrils stuck together in the dry Denver air. His ears turned red. Police hats afford little protection from the elements. Then he heard it again. This time his heart verified what his ears had questioned. He knew that he heard something and rushed toward the canal.
The police academy prepares your eyes and body to react to crime and to react quickly. They fail to prepare your mind to process the things that to which your eyes so quickly react. He noticed the blood seeping from her ears first. The damage to his mouth touched him at a place that science has yet to identify. He felt stabbing twinge of pain somewhere around his chest. It lasted a nanosecond but stayed with him the rest of his life everytime his mind went back to that scene.
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